


Bare My Soul

by lisafyra



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Bullying, Claustrophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Violence, but they're on a good way to get there, they're not together in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27818146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisafyra/pseuds/lisafyra
Summary: A ride with an elevator gone wrong brings out the demons of Lando's past again... but luckily, he has Carlos by his side to help him fight them off.(tw: mentions of bullying)
Relationships: Lando Norris & Carlos Sainz Jr, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr
Comments: 6
Kudos: 96





	Bare My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> So, here we go, me posting a work on AO3 for the first time! And also the first time for me writing Carlando, but I have to say, I enjoyed it a lot and already have some more ideas that might follow soon... hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it :)
> 
> The title (and setting) is based on the song "Bare My Soul" by British band Empathy Test, and even though it's not necessary in order to read the story, I highly recommend listening to it - they're really good!  
> (Shout-out to Lily for introducing me to their music! ♥)

> _I wanna bury my soul, in a way no one can know_
> 
> _In the hope that somewhere you might understand how it feels..._
> 
> _To be so alone_
> 
> (Empathy Test: Bare My Soul)

“…and now I’m _so_ ready to kick your ass! I swear, you won’t have _any_ chance!”, Lando proclaimed full of conviction and skittishly punched Carlos on the upper arm - who couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, sure… if that’s what helps you sleep at night…”, the Spaniard replied with a grin, while the two of them walked down the hotel corridor to the elevator.

It was Thursday, the traditional day of press and PR appearances, and actually, they were already running late for their first appointment, but that didn’t seem to bother Lando much - different to his supposedly enhanced FIFA skills.

Ever since their arrival at the track yesterday, the young Brit had just kept going on and on about how hard he had trained after the latest disgrace and how he was now “so ready for revenge”.

Carlos’ grin became wider. The imagination of Lando 24/7 practicing his FIFA skills at home, just to be _once_ able to beat him, was actually quite cute.

But as much as he enjoyed seeing his teammate so self-confident instead of as anxious as in his rookie year - this was still about FIFA.

And there was _no freaking way_ the younger one could ever “kick his ass” in this game, just as many, many matches before had proven. Carlos wasn’t too much of a video gamer, but in FIFA, not many could hold a candle to him - and certainly not Lando.

But he was steadfast: “I’m serious! I’m at my best!”, he insisted when they arrived at the elevator, trying to convince Carlos that their next game would turn out different.

The Spaniard pushed the button to call the elevator, before he gave Lando an amused look.

“And you’re sure that’s enough, your best? To beat me?”, he teased him, which Carlos liked to do, because sulky-Lando never failed to amuse him (albeit involuntarily, though).

But today, the younger one could not be brought down: The mischievous smile on his face only got bigger, unable to hide his anticipation to when the official part of the day was over and they had the evening to themselves - aka to the rematch.

“Oh _definitely!”,_ he countered. “I’m a freaking pro! You’ll see!”

Carlos chuckled again. “You’re a muppet, that’s what you are”, he replied, just before the elevator cabin arrived at their floor and the doors slid open with a little rumble.

Lando got in first. He was so full of energy and downright hyped over the whole thing, that he almost stormed into the lift and hit the button for the ground floor, before pointing triumphantly towards Carlos.

“A muppet that’s gonna make you cry like a baby when I break all of your records this evening!”

Carlos rolled his eyes when he entered the lift as well, but still with a grin. He just couldn’t take Lando’s threats seriously. _This cabrón_ would make him cry like a baby? Ha! Carlos highly doubted that. Just like that Lando had really made so much progress in just two race-free-weeks.

That was just about impossible.

“We’ll see that later…”, he just waved off, as he leaned against the elevator wall, quickly checking on his hair in the mirrored cladding - still marvelous always -, before the lift started to move, taking the two drivers downstairs, floor per floor from all the way up.

“Sounds like you’re scared already?”, Lando teased him from across, who was slumping on the opposite wall of the elevator, trying to look so patronizing and yet failing so hard, that Carlos couldn’t help himself but laugh. “Scared, of what? _You?_ Ha! Never!”

He shot Lando a meaningful look. “We both know I’ll get you 5-0 even before half-time!”

_“For sure_ you won’t!”, Lando replied - his self-confidence was unbeatable today. And that made Carlos, before he even knew, hold out his hand towards his younger teammate.

“Wanna bet?”

He knew that Lando couldn’t withstand a good challenge, neither of them could. No matter if it was on the race track, at bowling or who got to the motorhome first - their constant need for competition in even the smallest things was an essential part of their friendship, and so this time, too:

“Okay!”, Lando agreed without hesitation and already wanted to go for the handshake, looking Carlos firmly in the eye. “Whoever loses-”

\- when all of a sudden, there was a thud and the elevator cabin, that had moved so gently and barely noticeably until then, rumbled as if in an earthquake, causing both Lando and Carlos to flinch in fright.

_What the hell…?!_

But just as sudden as it had come, the rumbling stopped again, not even a second later, as if nothing has happened, leaving the McLaren drivers in shock - and silence.

At first, neither of them said a word or even dared to move, almost as if they were awaiting another thud, as in the calm before the storm - but nothing like that came. In fact, nothing happened at all anymore: The elevator stood still, the crimson LED-display above the doors had stopped at a bold, pixel-ish 4.

Carlos was the first to find back to words again. _“¡Dios!”,_ he cussed and looked around uncertainly, the expression in his face could best be translated to a huge _WTF?! -_ but on the other side, they both already knew what had happened.

And Lando hated just even _thinking_ it.

“Are we- are we stuck?”, he asked the obvious, which got only more obvious with every further second that nothing happened, and yet the Brit was still in unbelief. That - that couldn’t be true, could it? That they just… got stuck in the elevator?!

Carlos’ eyes, which you usually were of such a soft and warm brown, were also full of astonishment now when their gaze met.

“Yeah, seems like it…?”, he said, but even with him it sounded more like a question than an answer.

As in the attempt to find out, the older one turned around to the control panel right next to him, with the buttons for each floor; and Lando watched with horror as his teammate pressed the button for to the ground floor again… but nothing happened. Not even at the second and third attempt and also not with random other buttons, which Carlos tried next.

No matter which one he pushed, he cabin stood still, as if the elevator had decided to take a well-needed nap and was unwilling to wake up.

Carlos grumbled something in Spanish, which Lando didn’t understand, but what, judging by the tone of his voice, must have been a swear word - and also because the Brit’s own head was full of curses as well. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…!_

He felt himself getting hot and cold at the same time, his body trembling with the sudden rush of adrenaline.

Nope, nope, nope.

He did not like this at all.

“And what- what do we do now…?”, Lando heard himself ask, trying his best not to let any of his discomfort show, but still his voice sounded unusually thin and… foreign, like it wasn’t even his own.

Carlos across from him, still facing the control panel, just shrugged.

“Pressing alarm?”, the handsome Spaniard replied without turning around, an unspoken _“What else?”_ resonating with his answer.

Said and done, he used the button with the classic bell icon, while Lando just stood there, paralyzed, and watched, only flinching at the high pitched alarm sound that filled the cabin as soon as Carlos’ thumb pressed down on the button.

_“Woah!”_ \- also the older one pulled a face at the loud sound and he let go of the button again when the alarm changed into a beeping like from telephone dialing. A recorded voice from the speakers told them that they were now being connected with the lobby and that they should please wait - like they had any other choice!

Lando automatically clenched his fists at this thought and took a deep breath because his lungs suddenly felt somewhat constricted.

_C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…!_

Blank-staring at the intercom device, he tried to conjure the hotel employees to _please, please_ quickly pick up, for God’s sake, how long could that take…?!

Probably only a few seconds later, which felt like hours for Lando, his wish was granted and someone eventually answered. The young racer felt his heart sprint a few beats, when a distorted “Hello?” came through the little speaker in the control panel.

Carlos responded immediately. “Hello! We’re stuck!”, he called loudly into the intercom device, then explained what had happened, in the hope that the employee would understand him despite the poor connection and his bold Spanish accent.

Of course it would have been easier if Lando had done the talking - but he was unable to form even one clear sentence. Because only now, while Carlos continued talking to the person on the other end of the line, he realized how small the cabin actually was.

He gulped.

He hadn’t noticed before because of the mirrors, which made the lift look larger. But once he had seen through the illusion, he couldn’t un-think it again, and the realization of how little space they actually had in here, made the Brit shiver uncomfortably.

“…okay, good. Thanks”, he heard Carlos say, the familiar voice interrupting his frightening thoughts; and when the Spaniard then turned around from the speaker, Lando was in desperate hope for some good news. _Please say they know what to do…!_

“They’re coming”, Carlos told him. “They’re sending their house technician and he will get us out as quick as possible.”

He pulled a face. “I just hope it doesn’t take too long. Charlotte is gonna _kill_ us…”, he added half aloud, but Lando was no longer listening - he had way other worries; his thoughts were circling wildly around what he just had heard:

_“As quick as possible”?_ What the hell did that mean? Was it only gonna be a few minutes, or rather twenty minutes or - an hour?!

He didn’t even dare think about it.

Only marginally did he notice how Carlos reached for his cell phone, probably in the endeavor to inform the team that they were going to be late - but:

“No signal!”, the Spaniard sighed after a quick look at the display - and that was too much for Lando. He felt as if the ground was being torn from under his feet.

_No signal._ Of course.

The metal of the doors must be blocking it - leaving them cut off from the outside world.

Trapped, with no doubt.

Unable to free themselves without help.

_Caged_.

Lando could feel the panic rising in his chest, gripping his heart with a cold claw. Automatically he clenched his fists again, trying to fight it back, and looked over to Carlos, who had leaned against the elevator wall again, his phone still in his hand.

“So… _waiting…”_ , he mumbled, more to himself than to Lando, busily swiping and tapping on the display - probably he was playing a game that also worked offline. Or looking at the latest photos he had taken, for distraction.

Because unlike himself, the Spaniard only seemed to find this annoying; irritating maybe - but it didn’t seem to bother him much. He only seemed to be bugged by their further delay.

Lando really wished he could say the same.

That he could just stand there, bored to death by the waiting, randomly scrolling through his phone in order to just pass the time because it was _so_ boring being stuck in an elevator.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even take his phone out because his hands were shaking too hard.

He was far away from being _bored_.

And as much as he tried to focus on being calm, he found it more and more difficult to breathe.

With a quiet whine, he grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it to the front, trying to make more room for his throat. Was it just him or was it already getting warmer in there, not to say: hot?

His gaze wandered around restlessly.

And for how long actually did the air last in such an elevator cabin? Telling from the narrow dimensions, there surely wasn’t too much oxygen reserve in there, especially not for two people.

Thinking about it, shit, didn’t the air already feel a little thicker, heavier?

Lando couldn’t tell if that was true or if it was only because he was slowly but surely going crazy, but he knew he couldn’t take it any longer, he couldn’t wait. He _had_ to get out of here. NOW.

“Hey, what are you doing?!”, Carlos asked horrifiedly when he saw his teammate fiddling with the heavy doors.

“I need to get out of here!”, Lando whimpered, in a tone that the Spaniard had never heard before from him, before pulling on the door again with all his might, so hard that his knuckles turned white from exertion. “I need-”

“Lando! Ey!” In no time, Carlos rushed to his side and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Stop! You can’t-”

He tried to drag him away from the door, or at least to stop him before he could hurt himself - but Lando didn’t let him. With more strength than Carlos would have thought the younger one could do, Lando pushed his arm away, fought him off, almost violently shaking his head.

“No!”, he cried, his face an expression of sheer horror, while he tried again to somehow make the doors move. “I need to get out of here! Now! I can’t stand this!” - and his voice broke away into a desperate sob on the last words.

_“Lando!”_

Almost furiously, Carlos grabbed him again, harder this time; wrapping his arms around his teammate’s slim waist and drawing him away from the doors - which still wasn’t too easy, because even though Lando was shorter than him, his panic gave him enormous strength.

“Listen, you can’t get out of here now! _We have to wait!”,_ Carlos went again, the tone of his voice sharper than usual, while he tried his best to hold onto his friend, who was squirming and fighting in his arms like crazy - when all of a sudden, as if he realized he had no chance, his resistance died down and instead turned into sobs.

And before Carlos had a chance to react, also the younger one’s legs gave way under him, making him break down into his arms.

“Oi!” - thanks to the excellent reflexes of a F1 driver, Carlos managed to catch him just in time, saving him from falling to the ground. He tried to hold him up, but without any body tension, even the little Brit was too heavy.

So without further ado, Carlos carefully lowered himself to his knees and helped him to sit down on the floor, where Lando downright collapsed - both physically and emotionally. He just pulled his knees to his body and buried his face in his arms, making himself small as a packet - and cried.

The sight broke Carlos’ heart, and especially the sobs Lando let out.

“I want to get out, I want to get out…”, the younger one whimpered to himself and he started rocking himself back and forth gingerly.

Carlos, kneeling in front of him, felt helpless.

Never had he been in a situation like this before and he didn’t know how what to do. But also he couldn’t just watch Lando suffer.

So he softly laid his hand on the Brit’s shoulder again, where he had grabbed him so rough just before.

“Lando, what is it? Do you have… _claustrofobia?”_ , he asked carefully, just hoping that it meant the same in English as in Spanish because he couldn’t come up with the word so quickly-

But Lando nodded, somehow made himself do so, even if it felt like his body no longer obeyed him.

“I can’t stand being trapped!”, he cried, still hiding his face in his arms, hiding his tears from Carlos. ”It reminds me of…”

_Of being alone in the dark, in oppressive tightness, having barely enough room for his limbs, barely enough room to breathe._

_Of hitting the wooden doors with his fists, over and over again;_

_of screaming, literally_ crying _for help, desperately, his voice shaking more than ever, with tears streaming down his face;_

_of the feeling as if the air was getting thiner -_

_And of being scared to death. Of being so,_ so _very afraid of dying right there, right then, unnoticedly, all on his own, without anyone coming to help-_

“Of what?”, he heard Carlos ask him from what felt like far away, but it went down in the massive tumult of flashbacks before his eyes. And he couldn’t look away this time, not anymore. His mind didn’t let him. He had to watch, and the scraps of memory flooded his head like an unstoppable tidal wave.

Everything that he had tried to ignore, to suppress for so long - it all came back at once, right now, and he felt like drowning in it. It was like a vortex, dragging him mercilessly down and only further down into the darkness… -

All of a sudden, he felt two hands on his shoulders, shaking him, and then there was Carlos’ voice, downright dashing through the dark waves and driving them away: “Lando, breathe! Easy!”

Lando flinched at the touch and out of reflex, he jerked his head up, gasping for air, as if he had really been underwater; and he was almost expecting to still be _there,_ in the darkness, in the narrowness, all on his own - but instead looked straight into the familiar face of his teammate, whose eyes laid on him full of worry.

The awful memories of his past, that had just felt so vivid and real, vanished on the spot, leaving Lando in the present again - but which was in no way better.

Involuntarily, he started to tremble and his vision blurred before his eyes. This couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t…!

“Relax, we’re gonna be good. Breathe…”, he heard Carlos say again and his big, warm hand reassuringly squeezed his lower arm. “We’ll be out in a minute, _cabrón_ , just… hold on!”

It actually was a simple instruction, but it still was too much to ask.

“I can’t…”, Lando whimpered, still feeling like he was drowning, like helplessly paddling on the open sea, with no land in sight anywhere. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”, before the tears welled up from him again and he hugged himself tight, his shoulders shaking from his sobbing.

It broke Carlos’ heart to see his teammate in such shape.

Before he knew what he was doing, he moved up next to Lando and just wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close into his firm embrace. This time, he didn’t fight back - he was crying too hard to even be able to.

“Sssssh…”, the Spaniard instinctively tried to shush him, his voice soft and sonore, but it only caused the younger one to sob even more. He really tried to pull himself together, to fight back the anxiety rushing through his body, but he couldn’t do it anymore.

Helplessly he dug his fingers into the fabric of Carlos’ shirt, literally clinging to him in his fear.

“I don’t wanna die, Carlos”, he whined in his arms. “I don’t- I don’t wanna die here!”

Instinctively the older one pulled him even closer, almost onto his lap, the slim body fitting perfectly between his arms.

“We’re not gonna die here. Okay?”, he contradicted quickly, maybe a little too harsh, but he didn’t want to give this fear of Lando any time to settle down.

So he paused for a split second, gaining control over his voice again, before he then repeated: “We’re _not_ gonna die”, putting all the confidence he had in it, while he still held Lando’s trembling body close. He wanted to say it to his face, to make Lando look at him at these words, but the younger one had buried his face into the crook of Carlos’ neck and didn’t want to move, not even the slightest bit.

Carlos could feel tears staining his shirt and instinctively, he started to stroke his hair, let his fingers run trough the messy curls.

It was one of those moments where your brain goes into autopilot, without much thinking, and the only goal for the moment was to comfort Lando, to ease his fear, for as long as they couldn’t change their situation themselves.

“I tell you, I don’t like this either, but we’re gonna be fine”, he so promised again and he hoped that Lando could hear that he really believed this, that it wasn't just said that way.

But at the moment, the younger one didn’t even really seem to listen - he was just so caught in his panic attack that he wasn’t able to.

His breathing between the sobs was rapid and shallow and for sure this only fueled the fear, not to mention that Carlos found it actually pretty alarming. Under no circumstances did he want Lando to hyperventilate and possibly pass out - because then they’d _really_ have a problem in here!

So he tried his best not to let Lando notice his own insecurity, when he, still caressing his scalp, asked him to focus on his respiration.

Carlos had read about the importance of breathing and mental clarity once, when he was on research for some techniques to calm his nerves before a race. And even though he had been skeptical about this whole thing at first, it had worked wonders for him, and so he suspected they had to approach Lando’s anxiety that way first.

“Just breathe, _cabrón,_ just breathe… in… hold… and out… like me, c’mon”, he guided him, demonstrating the technique himself, so that Lando could follow - which was difficult for him at first, but Carlos didn’t give up.

“C’mon… I promise you, it’s gonna be okay. Just breathe…”

And even though it took a bit, Carlos could feel the change in the rhythm that the small shoulders heaved and lowered in his embrace and even though it was only a minor difference, he encouraged Lando to continue.

“That’s right…”, he mumbled calmly, still doing deep breaths himself, so that Lando could orientate on him.

And bit by bit, Carlos could feel how it worked. How the younger one gradually quieted down in his arms and his sobs became less, until they were only sitting there, on the worn elevator floor, in silence.

“Better?“, Carlos asked softly and Lando nodded, sniffing, but he made no move to move away, just stayed into the warm embrace of his teammates’ arms. He knew that they were just crossing a line with this, he also needed it more than words could express, being held, being comforted, by nobody else than his teammate. By his best friend in the crazy world of F1.

Under different circumstances he surely would have been embarrassed, crawling onto his Carlos’ lap and clinging onto his broad shoulders as if for his dear life. But right now it felt like the only right thing.

Luckily, Carlos didn’t show any wish to shift away from their closeness either. He just kept sitting there with him, leant against the elevator wall and holding him, and continued to stroke through Lando’s curls - which for sure must have been a mess by now, but he didn’t care.

Never had his anxiety been this bad before. He had had encounters with the demons from his past before, yes, but never so vividly, and also never when there was someone around - or at least he had tried to not let it show then.

But never before had he had someone by his side in all this - and never had he been so glad about it.

“You never told me you had…“, Carlos quietly said after a while. “I mean, we could have taken the stairs?“

But this time, Lando shook his head.

“It’s not… _that“,_ he managed to say with a hoarse voice, even after clearing this throat, and he could feel the unspoken counter-question of what it was then.

And maybe it was because Lando had never felt so terrified and yet so sheltered at the same time, or because the fear had taken all inhibitions from him and he was too tired to hold back any longer, or maybe even because Carlos had now seen a part from him that nobody else knew and he might see as well the rest of it - but the Brit felt a sudden urge to get things off his chest.

He had never talked to anyone about this, for a good reason, but he didn’t care anymore. And before he knew, everything that he had tried to keep away for so long, broke out of him:

“They trapped me in a closet. At school…”, he whispered, barely audible - but Carlos had caught it, even though he wished he hadn’t in the very same second:

“They- what?!”, he asked, openly shocked, and he really hoped he had misheard something - but Lando just nodded, without lifting his head from his shoulder, mumbling a thin “Yeah…” in response. “One day, when classes were over… they just pushed me in and locked and… left. The caretaker found me.”

Carlos felt his pulse go up and an unexpected anger rising in him.

They had done WHAT to Lando, to his Lando?!

Just thinking of it was almost unbearable and automatically, the Spaniard tightened his grip on Lando, also to reassure himself that the younger one was in safety now.

“But - why?!”

He was still so very perplexed. It didn't go into his head how anyone would want to harass Lando? Lando, the newly risen fan-favorite of the current F1 grid, one of the funniest and friendliest people to spend time with - and also the best mate he’s ever had?

The said let out a bitter snort. “As if they need a solid reason to bully someone… the new kid on the block?!”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, before nestling closer to Carlos (if that was even possible) and letting his head rest on his teammate’s shoulder. “I don’t know, maybe I was an easy target because I was smaller and everything…”

Lando had so often thought about all this, had spent so many time laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, wide awake, trying to figure out just… why! - but he had never come to a satisfying conclusion.

It took him some more years to realize that it had nothing to do with him, but with the others.

“But-I thought you went to this private school with-”, Carlos started, but Lando didn’t let him finish.

“Doesn’t mean the kids were nice, just because their parents earn a lot of money…”, he interrupted him and Carlos could hear the deep pain in his voice. But unfortunately, he was right with it - manners couldn’t be bought with money.

Carlos could relate to that, too. There had also been snobbish and rude kids in his school days, which acted as if the world belonged to them, but he himself had never been bullied. To be honest, he actually had always been one of the cool kids. Most of his classmates had admired him for his racing hobby and had found it so cool and interesting.

But it seemed to have turned out a lot different for Lando.

“They made my life to hell…”, the young Brit whispered painfully. “Stealing my stuff, laughing at me for wanting to be a racing driver, calling me names - and locking me in locker rooms and closets and whatever-”

His voice broke away with that last bit, but he didn’t need to say any more, Carlos had heard enough - and it took all of his self-control to stay calm and keep his anger in check and to focus on Lando instead. Because _he_ was important now, not Carlos’ own feelings.

So he just mumbled: “That sounds horrible…” and automatically stroked through the wild curls again, letting his fingers run over his scalp, both in the hope to comfort him at least a little bit and also to calm his own anger. Because he had to admit that he kind-of liked the feeling, too…

“It was…”, the younger one managed in a choked voice.

“And you never told anyone?”, Carlos carefully asked, because he couldn’t believe that anyone at that school would have tolerated such behavior from students - but Lando jerked up as soon as he said it, looking straight at him.

“I couldn’t!”, he gave back and his face was so full of horror that it caused the Spaniard a shiver done his spine - and none of the good kind. “That would have made it worse!”

Lando gulped hard, fighting with tears, then shook his head and looked away, no longer able to hold the eye contact.

“I was so scared of what they’d do next and that maybe the caretaker wouldn’t be around next time when they found it funny to shove me into the closet… I just _couldn’t”,_ he whispered and for a second, he was just silent, before the reality of their situation hit him again and new tears came to his eyes.

“And now - every time I can’t get away from somewhere, I- I feel like back then and so trapped in myself and… it just drives me _crazy!”_

Carlos’ heart ached when he heard Lando’s voice shake like that. Quickly, before the emotions could boil up again, he shushed him, pulling him back into his arms.

“Easy, _cabrón_ , easy… relax”, he mumbled into his hair, stroking his slim back with long, steady strokes.

“It’s not like back then. You’re not in a closet. We got stuck in an elevator, which is… normal. It just happens sometimes. Technical problems always occur whenever we can least use them. We know that, don’t we?”, he went, hinting at the various technical failures they had already experienced in their racing careers.

Lando nodded mechanically. Fighting back the upcoming wave of anxiety, he tried to only concentrate on the sonorous voice of his teammate, which vibrated in the broad chest at his ear.

“And there already are people working to get us out of here”, Carlos continued. ”They are literally on their way. We just gotta wait a bit, but they will come and help us. No need to hope for anyone to randomly notice us in here, okay?”

Lando nodded again, feeling how a slight bit of relief spread in him at these words. There was help on its way. They were not on their own. Nobody trapped them here on purpose.

“And also… you are not alone in here. I’m here, okay?”

Carlos paused for a split second and let that sink in for Lando, before he repeated: “You. Are. Not. Alone.” - and that was the most relieving argument out of all.

Lando still didn’t dare to look up and around the cabin, or to think too much about where they were right now, because he still didn’t like this at all - but being in this together with Carlos made the whole situation easier to cope with.

“We’ll be out in a minute”, the older one reminded him again. “And I promise, we’re gonna be fine. Just breathe and hold onto me…”

And his voice sounded so familiar and trustworthy, that he couldn’t help but just believe him - that it wouldn’t take too long anymore until they were out.

And so Lando did as he was told.

He closed his eyes and only focussed on his breathing and on Carlos’ presence next to him, his body so close, his warmth, the gentle hair-stroking and the soothing words which the Spaniard mumbled to him.

It didn’t really matter what he said, but just hearing his voice constantly reminded Lando that he was not alone, and this comforting certainty did no longer allow his anxiety to mess around with him.

So it was bearable.

“And I swear, next time someone tries to trap you in a closet, I’m gonna teach them a lesson. Or _kick their ass,_ as you’d say!”

Lando grumbled, his head still resting on Carlos’ shoulder, his face half-buried in the collar of the older one’s shirt.

“You better kick that elevator then…”, he muttered, which caused the Spaniard to smile subconsciously.

“Oh, _cabrón,_ I don’t know if that would be so good…”, he said. “I mean - while they’re trying to fix it… oh, by the way, we also got a good excuse for why we are late now!”, he proclaimed, in an attempt to cheer Lando up - and he was successful: The corner of Lando’s mouth rose a little, forming a brief smile.

But as much as Carlos enjoyed that view - especially compared to red and puffy eyes from crying! -, he didn’t mean the first part as a joke.

“Seriously. I won’t let that happen to you again, okay?”, he said again, because it was important to him that Lando knew. “You might have had nobody to talk to back then, but now…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Lando got what he meant; and it made the Brit swallow against a lump in his throat again - but this time not because he was scared. Slowly he tilted his head to look up to his teammate, who had just given him the most beautiful, meaningful promise of all time.

“Thank you, Carlos. That… means a lot”, he whispered, trying his best not to burst into tears, and Carlos wanted to reply something like _“You’re welcome, of course”_ \- but before he could, their sweet moment was interrupted by noises coming from outside of the elevator.

Startled, the both turned their heads, over to the doors, which first rumbled - and then slowly were pushed open with a screech!

In no time, Carlos and Lando were on their feet, just in time to see the (apparently) house technician’s face appear in the gap. “Hey there - you alright?”

* * *

Stepping out of the hotel, Lando could not recall a moment in his life he’d ever been so relieved. His knees were still shaking a little from the remaining adrenaline, but he felt reborn. Carlos had been right. They had been able to leave the elevator all unharmed, safe and sound.

Carlos had helped him get out first.

The cabin had been stuck between two levels, so they had to rather climb out, but after all, that really had been their slightest problem. And with the helping hands of the house technician and his colleague, even this hurdle was overcome quickly - and within a second, Carlos and he stood on the hotel floor again, just as if nothing had happened.

But - something _had_ happened. Not just the incident with the elevator itself, but also… between the two of them.

Lando had never bared his soul like this in front of another person and it felt weird, yes, unfamiliar - but not in a bad way. Rather relieving, also.

In a way that showed him that, with Carlos, he had someone he could trust. The secret of his past was safe with the Spaniard. He would never tell anyone and certainly not use it against him in any way, not even when they would no longer be teammates one day - Lando just _knew_ that for sure and it was a very, very pleasant certainty.

And yet, the Brit also had the feeling that there was still something to be done - and that definitely couldn’t wait for after the whole media day. Not after all the waiting they had involuntarily done in that elevator cabin!

So he just went for it, while they were walking down to the parking lot, just as soon as the older one put his phone down - he had called Charlotte to inform her that they were free again and now on their way to the track.

“Carlos?”

“Hm?”

The Spaniard looked over to him, laying the gaze of his warm, brown, caring eyes on him and it costed Lando all his willpower not to look away or to start stuttering, when he said: “I- I meant what I said. It… means the world.”

_Knowing that you care_ , he added silently, in his thoughts. ”So… thank you.”

He gave his friend, that he felt even closer to now, a shy smile and at the same time felt his cheeks blushing a bit at the thought of what had happened in the elevator. How he had opened up to him.

But there was nothing to be embarrassed about - not with Carlos.

He just smiled back, as if it wasn’t a big deal; his typical Carlos-smile which never failed to cheer Lando up, too.

That was new to the Brit as well. The other kids had used to call him a cry-baby, because he had always been emotional and quick with tears when he was sad or uncomfortable - but Carlos didn’t make fun of him for that. He would never.

“You're welcome, _cabrón_ ”, he answered simply and reached out his hand to ruffle through the younger one’s curls once more, but this time, Lando quickly ducked away with a squeak - his hair was already hopelessly messed up, enough was enough!

But it only made Carlos smile broader, turned it into an amused grin; but only for a second, before he added: “And I also meant what I said: Always. Okay?”

In addition he gave Lando a meaningful look that gave it all away. That he’d be there for the younger one whenever he needed someone to talk or just a shoulder to lean on - he’d be there. Always.

And telling from the grateful expression that thereupon entered his eyes, Lando knew that, too.

For a brief moment, the both of them only looked and smiled at each other, realizing once more what a great companion and friend they had found in one another - when suddenly, Carlos’ lips curled up in a playful smirk.

“But, just for your information - that doesn’t include that I’m gonna let you win at FIFA later”, he declared and Lando laughed out lout by that; an honest, liberated, happy laugh like he hadn’t for a long time.

“Oh, you wish!”

**Author's Note:**

> Bam-bam-baaaaam, that's it for now! Hope you liked it! Feel free to let me know what you think of it in the comments or via my tumblr (hurtsprincess) :)
> 
> Have you ever got stuck in an elevator? It once happened to me when I was new at my workplace, but luckily only for a minute before a co-worker got me out. Later I was told that the lift had technical issues on a regular basis and the manufacturer had no clue how to fix it. Since then I prefer taking the stairs ;)
> 
> And also, very important: If anyone is mean to you, please don't wait until you're trapped in an elevator with a handsome Spaniard - talk to someone ♥  
> (Because different to Lando's belief here, things are very, very likely to not get worse, but better then ♥)


End file.
